


you don't have to be a part-time, susie

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Facials, Hook-Up, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, but he's MY bastard, osamu is a bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I'm gonna be nice to folks," Osamu had said all those years ago. "Live in peace with 'em.Never wanna be the type to go messin' with the wrong people."
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, implied bokuaka - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	you don't have to be a part-time, susie

**Author's Note:**

> ok hear me out. i've been writing so much osamu content these past few days that he's become my muse so i'm just throwing this out there for whatever. i don't mean to perpetuate the trope that osaaka can't be their own ship alone together!!

_"I'm gonna be nice to folks," Osamu had said all those years ago. "Live in peace with 'em._

_Never wanna be the type to go messin' with the wrong people."_

"Ah, Osamu-san, please- ah-" 

"S'okay, I gotcha. Quit yer squirmin' and it'll feel even better."

Akaashi whines and forces his hips to stay in place, blush reaching down his neck. The pillow covers his embarrassment, the tears on his cheeks. He moans louder than he thinks he ever has into the soft, white fabric.

"P-please, pl- _ease,"_ Akaashi's words bubble out his mouth, pushed out with the force of Osamu's thrusts. The strong hands around his waist feel like a vice, feel like a reminder of his place on the mattress: pushed and pulled like a toy. 

_"For example", Osamu had resolved, "'m never gonna go take what's not mine. Never gonna get caught with my hand in the cookie jar like yer dumbass."_

"Baby, 'Kaashi, so good. So fuckin' tight." 

Akaashi whines.

"Who gives it to ya best?" 

Akaashi shoves into the pillow even further and shakes his head. He's tried to toe that line before but it's probably not best for an overthinker like the other man. That's fine, Osamu thinks he'll get it out of him soon. 

"Can't hear anythin' when ya go suffocatin' yerself like that," Osamu chides, fingers threading through the back of the editor's longer hair before yanking him upwards and pulling a broken, pathetic moan into the air.

"Nnn… hurts, Miya." 

"Keep yer head above the water then, baby." 

_"I don't know what ya get from stickin' yer fat pig nose in other folks' business anyway, 'Sumu. Can't see why ya'd wanna share like that."_

They're both getting close. Akaashi looks like he can't believe how good he feels with the way his hands are gripping absentmindedly at the covers, face slack-mouthed and drooling. If they had more time, he'd wanna see how far he could push Akaashi into this fucked out state. 

"Face, Osamu-san. Gimme-" 

The pleading breaks off into a pitched gasp when Osamu pulls out and takes off the condom. The former spiker flips Akaashi on to his back, walking up on his knees to get just above the face looking up at him.

"Open wide." 

Osamu thinks artists around the world would be hard pressed to find a prettier picture than Akaashi Keiji painted in streaks of cum, eyes closed and flushed high on his cheeks. Looks even better when Osamu gets a hand on the man and strokes him once, twice, and covers the soft skin of Akaashi's tummy too. 

"Pretty baby." 

_"But I'm just nice like that. Couldn't be anythin' that resonates through that thick skull. Ain't that right, Aran-kun?"_

_Aran chuckled and looked between the twins, calculating for a moment._

_"I dunno, Osamu. Yer pretty mean when ya wanna be. It sneaks up on a guy, so ya got the advantage there. Probably could get away with more than Atsumu."_

_"Hey!"_

The door clicks behind him quietly as he steps out into the condo hallway. The air is completely still, as if giving Osamu no room to breathe under the weight of his misgivings. He readjusts his clothing in the mirror outside the elevator self-consciously, smirking softly at the red blotch on the side of his neck. He can feel the sting of nail marks on his back. 

With a _ding,_ the elevator doors open. 

"Ah, good evenin', Bokuto-san," Osamu greets the man stepping out onto the eighteenth floor, dressed in a tracksuit with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Myaa-sam," Bokuto replies happily but with a wrinkle of confusion between his eyebrows. Osamu steps into the elevator and presses the underground parking button.

"You take care." The doors close and Osamu catches the wrinkle smooth out into understanding.

_What was a few stolen cookies anyway, if it meant he didn't go hungry?_


End file.
